


just come and set me free (and I'll be with you)

by BulletStrong



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Regina's a genie and Emma's a rebellious princess!, Swan Queen - Freeform, set in enchanted forest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-09-30 08:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletStrong/pseuds/BulletStrong
Summary: Princess Emma Swan White is the rebellious daughter of King Charming and Queen Snow. Just when her refusal to find a suitor begins to wear on her royal parents' patience, a birthday gift changes everything.Or that one where Regina's cursed to be a genie and Emma rubs her lamp (among other things). Canon divergent. Swan Queen.*On hiatus*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hummingbirdswords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingbirdswords/gifts).



> *waves shyly* hello, swen! So, let me be upfront... I'm nervous as all hell about posting this story right on the heels of "our hearts once heaved but forever grew still" because it was my story with the most kudos and that must've been an anomaly, right??? BUT, this idea popped into my brain and wouldn't leave so here we are! I hope you enjoy this intro chapter and join me on this ride!
> 
> Also, I'm dedicating this to Kaleena, my new friend and a writer with so much talent that I'm still shocked she talks to me!! She's amazing and her writing is off the charts. Check out her stories, please!

Being Queen was everything Regina expected when King Leopold proposed to her that spring morning. It was lonely, miserable, and Regina had been silently concocting a way out for years. She never found a plan that would leave her with her head still attached. Until Sidney, the genie of Agrabah, was invited to dinner at the White Castle to celebrate the birthday of beloved, treasured, _spoiled_ princess Snow White.

When the genie followed her out of the party and onto the outdoor courtyard with his wanting doe eyes, she knew her pawn had arrived. It did not take much convincing. In fact, the older man came up with the plan in hopes of having her to himself. _The fool._ She’d spent a decade being a bed warmer and nanny to one man. She refused to become an object to another. He didn’t understand that, which made it much easier to bat her wet eyelashes and cry grateful tears when he promised to free her from King Leopold’s grip.

 

But Sidney wasn’t as blind as the Queen believed him to be. His powers were much stronger than she knew, and he witnessed the conniving smile on her lips through the mirrors of the castle. He knew her heart had started to darken beyond recognition and saw a way to break his own curse. A soul for a soul.

 

The night that changed the course of fate was a stormy one. Queen Regina paced the length of her bedroom, anxiously awaiting some form of confirmation that the genie had followed through on his promise. She waited for screams from the guards and maids or even from Leopold himself, but the night stayed quiet except for the rain pelting the large stain glass windows facing the courtyard.

 

Her door opened slowly, and she watched with bated breath as the genie sauntered in. In his hand was golden lamp with a stretched and slightly curved nozzle and an intricate designed pressed into the metal. It was ornate and beautiful in her eyes, though many would mostly likely toss it aside for its lack of jewels or engravings. She nearly rolled her eyes thinking the lamp was a gift from the would-be admirer, but she was proven wrong seconds later when the genie’s gaze lifted, and she saw something twisted and deranged in his dark brown eyes.

 

“Your majesty,” He bowed but something about it, a hint of mockery in his exaggerated movements, put Regina on guard. He presented the lamp to her with a smile that was too stiff to be genuine and she only took it out of sheer curiosity.

 

“Gold?” She asked, feigning calm, running her fingers across the duvets and dents on the metal.

 

He nodded shortly. “Indeed. It’s priceless in my homeland.” His jaw clenched, “People in this land of yours don’t appreciate the simple beauty and cunning of our people—nor our creations for that matter.”

 

She was inclined to agree, though it would seem hypocritical with the weighted diamond necklace around her neck and velvet blue dress hugging her curves. She admired the lamp instead, analyzing the foreign lettering engraved into its side.

 

His quiet chuckle nabbed her attention and she stared at him until he sighed wistfully. He moved forward, leaning into her personal space, and tapped his finger against the engraving she had been admiring. “ _Effictum sit ignis ardore genie resurgere._ It roughly translates to _molded from the fire of a scorching wind, may the genie rise._ Fascinating, isn’t it?”

 

The castle was silent, almost eerily so. The guards always checked on the King before he went to bed and during the night. If something had happened to him, the guards would have made it known. Had the genie done something to guards that typically stood outside Leopold’s bedroom? If not, the promise he made hadn’t been fulfilled. That would simply _not_ do.

Her preoccupation didn’t faze him and, consequently, he hardly seemed surprised when she ignored his question outright and asked, “How was the King when you left him?”

 

“I wouldn’t know, your Majesty. I didn’t see him tonight.” With a grin, he watched her eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

 

She attempted a slight pout and watery eyes, anything to change the genie’s tone and aura back to sympathy instead of the dark, sinister one he had since walking into her bedroom. “Sidney,” She breathed, a sensual husk, “I don’t know how much longer I can live this way.”

 

She was prepared to do anything the godforsaken genie wanted tonight as long as it gave her the freedom she craved tomorrow. But the genie had other plans.

 

He moved even closer, his lips much too close to hers, but she closed her eyes and pretended to be overwhelmed and made lustful by his proximity. She faked a small gasp, attempting to sound innocent and virginal despite her innocence being forcefully taken nearly a decade earlier. Men were easily excitable over the knowledge they could be the first to do anything, Regina learned. Women, however, touched her with reverence, with an admiration, and she found solace in her trysts with the chamber maids and, occasionally, Maleficent. It soothed the darkness in her soul for a time. It never lasted, not after his hands would erase the scorched path theirs had taken.

 

His right hand slid over her forearm and his fingers curl to grip the flexing muscle. She fought the urge to use her magical abilities to toss him away from her and clear across the room. He leaned in more so his mouth grazed her ear and whispered, “Don’t you worry, my Queen. The King and his brat will soon be a distant memory.”

 

And before she could even blink, his left hand threw the lamp into the air where it hovered in the small space between their torso’s and a knife appears after a wave of his hand. Her eyes widened and she struggled to pull away, but his strength proved too great. With a quickness she hadn’t seen before, the knife levitated to slice open his palm, drawing enough blood to make her dizzy at the sight alone.

 

His copper red blood dripped from his palm onto the gold lamp and filled in the engravings and carvings so quick that it seemed like magic. The blood started to glow a neon blue, pulsing like a heartbeat. Then his left hand grabbed hers and held the palm outward, and the knife, still covered in his blood, sliced her palm clean across.

 

She hissed in pain and cried out, “Guards!”

 

“No one’s coming to save you,” Sidney growled menacingly. He squeezed her hand right as the lamp flew under it and her blood dropped to mingle with his on the metal. The pulsing color turned a blinding white that became a mist that obscured the entire room. She coughed on its fumes and barely heard his laugh as the mist enshrouded her and swirled until she couldn’t breathe.

 

He yelled out the phrase carved onto the lamp over and over until the mist started to sweep her up from the floor. She felt her body twist and turn and start to become a mist itself.

 

The lamp shook dangerously as it’s spout started to suck the mist into it, slowly taking her without permission. She tried to hold onto the genie, but it was no use.

 

The last thing she saw before her life changed forever was Sidney having the last laugh.

 

* * *

 

“Ruby, get a move on! And stop touching that man’s things! You’re gonna break something and then we’ll have to buy it!”

 

The young brunette girl rolls her eyes at her grandmother but pulls her hand away from the dainty necklace on display. The seller, a young man with nervous eyes, looks so relieved that Ruby would laugh if she had time to care.

 

She races to her grandmother, who’s checking out a collection stand and barely listening to the old woman going on and on about the specialties at her stand. The rummage sale in the southern district of the White Kingdom sets up every three months and vendors from across the lands come to sell their items. It’s all crap, if you ask Ruby. These vendors are looking to sell the junk that accumulated in their homes and passing it off as a major find. But her Granny loves coming, especially when she knows someone’s birthday is fast approaching.

 

The grey-haired chef is admiring some cheap necklace when Ruby finally sighs her displeasure. “Granny, none of this is fit for a princess.”

 

Granny grunts. “No, not for a princess, but Emma will surely appreciate whatever we get her as long as we thought of her when we saw it.”

 

“Emma  _is_ a princess.”

At times it’s easy to forget that Emma Swan White is royalty, especially when she’s constantly dueling, playing with swords, and rolling around in the mud, but she sure as hell is royalty. Queen Snow has been trying to stifle the princesses’ manlier habits and hobbies since she was a child tearing up her expensive dresses and tossing away her tiara for a wooden sword. It never worked. Now, with Snow and Charming aging and slowly losing their energy, Emma’s been under the most pressure to cease her rebellion and take the form of a soon-to-be-queen. The young blonde has not given an inch.

 

“Emma may be royalty, but she’s a simple girl with a kind heart. She’ll appreciate whatever we get her much more than the fancy jewels and dresses.”

 

Ruby knows her grandmother is right. Emma is easy to please and hates everything gaudy and meaningless. She’s a kind-hearted girl that loved befriending the maids, cooks, and workers of the castle instead of the other princesses her age. It made her beloved by castle staff. The same cannot be said for the neighboring royal families. They see Emma as a black sheep that isn’t worthy of her title.

 

“What do you think, pup?” Granny calls out to her from the next stall. She must’ve been so deep in thought she hadn’t realized her granny had kept moving. The woman at the stall lifts an eyebrow in annoyance at their antics but she ignores her. She and her granny are used to getting looks. These parts aren’t kind to werewolves despite Snow and Charming outlawing hunting of their kind. Laws change but minds don’t necessarily change with them.

 

She walks over to her grandmother and sniffs distastefully at the dented lamp in her hands. Its gold shell has lost its vibrancy and some old language is carved into the side.   She side eyes the vendor, who’s watching them eagerly, before whispering to her grandmother. “That’s ugly.”

 

“Hush,” Granny scolds her. “I think Emma will like it.”

 

Ruby looks at the lamp again and raises an eyebrow. “Unless she plans to melt it down and make some bracelet out of it, I doubt that.”

 

Granny complete ignores her commentary to rummage through her coin purse and pull out some money. The vendor tries to angle for a higher price, but Granny puts him in his place.

 

They leave the rummage sale with a pendent for Snow’s chamber maid, some healing ointment, and that cheap, ugly lamp for the poor princess.

 

 _What a gift,_ Ruby snickers.

 

* * *

 

The pounding on her door hasn’t stopped since the guards attempted to wake her up nearly fifteen minutes earlier and found it locked, which is persistence Emma has to give them props for. These men and women of the royal army have put up with so many of Emma’s antics over the twenty-five years she’s been around.

 

_“Emma, open this door now!”_

 

Emma scrunches her nose in distaste at her mother’s shrill voice and looks over toward her bedroom doors where she used her tentative, and secret, magical abilities to stack two heavy wooden dressers against the them. No way they were breaching that unless they had their witch, which they don’t because _magic is corruptive, Emma_ and _magic ruins lives, Emma._ It made a young princess just discovering her abilities anxious and afraid, but time taught her that magic wasn’t evil or corruptive. The human mind and soul could be evil or good—or somewhere in between, surely—and magic was simply a tool that could be used either way.

There’s a pause in the commotion outside, then a soft, tentative, _“...Please, my love. It’s your birthday. Thousands of people, from different lands, are putting in time and effort to get here to celebrate you—“_

“I never asked you to do that!” Emma shouts back and the interruption makes the Queen sigh so loudly and powerfully that Emma can imagine the wooden doors flying off the hinges. She’d feel guilty if she hadn’t been a disappointment since she could talk and walk. She’s used to the sighs, scolding’s, and disapproving looks.

 

“Besides, I’m not an idiot,” Emma continues unperturbed, “I know this ball isn’t to celebrate me. You’ve invited suitors, haven’t you?” Snow’s hesitation to answer speaks volumes and Emma scoffs. “Right.”

 

“Emma, your father and I... we just want what’s best for you—“

 

“Forcing me to marry some pompous prince is what’s best for me?” Emma asks rhetorically. She resists the urge to kick the sliver of her bedroom door uncovered by the dressers.

 

Snow doesn’t even sound contrite when she responds. “Princesses are typically forced into arranged marriages to garner prosperity for their kingdom at age eighteen. Your father and I have tried letting you find love on your own, but you never attempted to even look. You spend your days rough-housing and hanging around with the staff. We’ve given you seven years, Emma. Our patience has run out.”

 

It’s then that a deeper voice chimes in. Apparently, her father, the King, had been listening in the entire time. “Emma, sweetheart, just open the door so we can talk with some privacy.”

 

Emma scowls. It’s always about appearances with them. Before she can say anything, another voice filters through the heavy wooden doors. “What the hell is going on here?”

 

 _Granny_. Emma smiles, relieved. The castles head chef was always a safe place for her, especially because she was so straightforward and not afraid to speak up against Snow and Charming on behalf of the princess. The King and Queen never took offense for some reason, but Emma wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

She uses her magic to slide the dressers to the side and opens the door, sticking her head through the crack and smiling at the older chef. Snow and Charming, already dressed to the nines with perfectly coiffed grey hair, look relieved while the guards are obviously holding back scoffs and eye rolls. They certainly didn’t sign up for this when they joined the royal army.

 

Snow looks ready to barge into her daughter’s bedroom when Granny takes the step to be between them. “Leave it to me, Snow. I’ll have her ready for the party, I swear it.” Granny lifts the box in her hands. “Besides, I’ve got to give her my gift before she gets swept up in the chaos.”

 

She shoos the guards and the royals away before slipping into the bedroom and shutting the doors behind her. Emma’s wrapped in a hug as she listens to the retreating footsteps outside the room.

 

Granny squeezes her tight and laughs. “Couldn’t give them an inch, huh?” Emma huffs playfully, knowing Granny would never want her to simply go with the flow of the castle, to give in to demands and expectations. The older woman is a spitfire and loves seeing that same spirit in other women.

 

Emma’s gaze latches onto the simple box in Granny’s hand as it’s handed to her gruffly. Wrinkled, calloused hands gesture for her to open it and she doesn’t waste a second. She flicks her wrist and the flaps of the box pop open to reveal an old looking lamp. It looks antique and foreign, and Emma grins.

 

“It’s beautiful, Granny!” She says, and she means it. Emma’s always loved collecting objects with an obvious history. Lamps like these typically come from Agrabah, if her research isn’t failing her, and the words carved onto the metal look like an ancient language. “Where did you get this?”

 

She practically sprints to the large bookcase across the room and moves some knick-knacks around to make space for the new item.

 

“Some loon was selling it at the rummage sale. When I saw it, I knew it’d fit right in on those shelves of yours. I hope you like it, my Swan.”

 

“Like it?” Emma admires the lamp in its spot front and center. “I love it, Granny.” She turns back to the older woman, who jerks her head toward the dresser and silently urges her to get ready for the party. She begrudgingly heeds the command and rummages through her clothes. As she sifts through dresses she’s never even worn, she says, “You know, Granny, legend says those lamps are homes for genies—“

 

Granny snorts, “Legends say way too much, princess. Anyway, not even a genie could save you from this ball, so hop to it. I don’t want to hear your mom complaining. Her voice gives me a headache when she gets all shrill and uppity.”

 

With one last glance at her new lamp, Emma suddenly wishes legend was reality. This ball was going to be an utter nightmare and a genie that could whisk her away... well, that sounded like heaven.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, good news and bad news? Bad news... this chapter is shorter because I'm just stopping wherever it feels right since I'm having writers block. Good news... faster updates and, in this chapter, Emma and Regina finally meet!
> 
> Please let me know what you think and what you believe will be Regina's reaction to Emma being Snow's daughter!

A disaster? No. A catastrophe? Hmm, getting warmer. Maybe there are no words to really describe the absolute nightmare that was Emma’s twenty-fifth birthday ball.

 

Snow and Charming used every opportunity to force their daughter to talk to the young princes from across different kingdoms. Each one was worst than the last. Her skin is still crawling from Killian Jones’ leer during their dance. The prince from Neverland was a perverted misogynist, but his family was wealthy and her parents loved that he seemed so drawn to Emma.

 

A marriage between them would surely bring prosperity and trade to the White kingdom. Unfortunately for Snow and Charming, Emma would rather gouge her own eyes out than spend another moment with Killian Jones.

 

He was simply the worst, but the night was filled with sleazy suitors working much too hard to garner her attention. She wasn’t interested. She’s never met a man that attracted her or made her abdomen flutter excitedly the way princess Jasmine from Agrabah once described when telling Emma about her lover Aladdin.

 

She never wanted to settle for anything less, but her parents kept pressuring her and she wasn’t sure how much longer she can fight for her desires. It’s easy to put on a tough face in front of Snow and Charming but it becomes much more difficult when she steps foot into her bedroom.

 

She practically rips off her white lace dress and carelessly tosses it onto the chaise lounge across from her bed. The maids would take care of it in the morning when the princess left for breakfast. She grabs her night dress and slips it on before heading to the bookshelf and grabbing the lamp from the spot she had placed it earlier.

 

She admires the dented metal and runs her thumb over carved wording etched onto the side, enjoying the feeling of the grooves on her skin. The lamp looks cheap to a casual observer but Emma has a knack for history, research, and antiques. She blames Granny for her interests. The older woman spent years regaling a young princess Emma of folklore and legend, even though she claims they’re hogwash. For her, however, it’s freeing to learn about other lands and fierce women, and know that her story doesn’t have to have the ending her parents expect of her. That’s always what’s given her the courage to keep fighting against the status quo.

 

Myths, like the myth of the genie, always fascinated her. Jasmine educated her on the genie of Agrabah—well, she tried to tell her as much as she could. Apparently the genie from her land visited the White kingdom during the reign of Queen Regina and King Leopold and vanished thirty years ago. Coincidentally, it was during that same time the queen disappeared. Many speculated that the genie and the queen were having an affair and ran away together, though her grandfather went to his grave with ire at the rumor.

 

She shivers as she thinks about him. Leopold White was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and she never liked being around him despite her mother’s absolute adoration of him. Emma could only imagine the relief the queen must’ve felt when she got away.

 

She grips the handle of the lamp tightly for fear of dropping an artifact with so much significance and makes her way to her bed. She sits and enjoys the silence. After a day filled with meaningless chatter and shrill music, she finds solace in the silence. The lamp’s metal is fairly dull and scratched, and it barely glints in the candle light, but there’s something grand about it. An aura, she thinks.

 

She has the urge to rub the smooth gold and see if legend is true. She tries to ignore the urge, feeling silly for even believing that a genie could be trapped in the lamp, just waiting for her to save him.

 

Her instincts are too overpowering though, and her trembling hand lays against the side of the lamp trepidatiously.

 

She scoffs at herself, “Come on, it’s just an old lamp. All known genies were freed nearly a decade ago. There’s no way...” She trails off as she stares at the lamp and how her face looks sun-kissed through its reflection. Her eyes slip shut and she releases a heavy breath that shakes as it leaves her lips. She’s nervous for a reason she can’t pinpoint.

 

Still, her hand rubs the metal once, twice, three times then pulls it back as if burned. Nothing. She sniffs and rolls her eyes at herself.

 

“Idiot,” She whispers to her reflection. “As if I would ever be that lucky—“ The lamp flies out of her hand to hover near the center of the room and Emma nearly screams, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. “What the—“ A semi-dark purple smoke starts to wisp from the nozzle little by little until the ground is obscured by it. Emma lifts her feet quickly and bounces onto her knees on the bed.

 

The mist rises and descends, pulsing, and Emma’s breathing becomes shallow from pure, unadulterated fear. She had joked about the lamp and it’s origins but she never expected this—whatever _this_ is. She jumps back and smacks into her beds headboard when the mist starts to swirl up in the center of the room in the shape of a human being.

 

_Oh god._

 

A flash reverberates across the room, making Emma screw her eyes shut. A few seconds pass before she opens them slowly and the sight she encounters will be forever ingrained in her mind.

 

In the middle of her bedroom is a woman in a tight blue velvet dress, her hair pinned up with strands loose around her face, and Emma freezes for an entirely different reason, one she cannot fully understand. She stares at the brunette in silence while the woman stares back, looking just as shocked.

 

Emma gulps and, like an idiot, waves shyly as she mumbles a quiet, “Hi.”

 

The brunette shakes her head slowly, like she can’t believe what just happened. Which... _join the club._ “You... You rubbed the lamp?”

 

Emma tilts her head and shrugs. “Uh, yeah.” Her green eyes trail over Regina’s form. “ _Woah_.” She blinks. “So you’re a genie, huh?”

 

The brunette visibly bristles at that. Her jaw tightens as she refutes the statement. “I am not a _genie_.”

 

Her eyes dart between the still hovering lamp and the brunette. “The evidence says otherwise. I mean, I rubbed a genie lamp and you popped out, which would make you a genie—“

 

“I am a royal,” The brunette tilts her head back and stares down her nose at the blonde. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner?”

 

Emma’s kind of amused now. She bites her tongue to keep from laughing and the other woman seems to notice because she huffs exasperatedly and crosses her arms. Emma lifts her hands in surrender and drops down to crawl on all fours toward the foot of the bed. It brings her close enough to get a whiff of the mysterious woman’s perfume—something light, airy, and tart, like apples—and she may be addicted already.

 

“So, do I get wishes or something?” Emma asks before the silence gets awkward.

 

The brunette shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. You’re the first person moronic enough to rub the lamp.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“What, dear? It’s true. I’ve been trapped in there for who knows how long—“

 

Emma scrunches her brows. “Trapped? What’s the last thing you remember?”

 

The brunette’s eyes glaze over and the blonde can tell she’s lost in a memory. In the end, she simply says, “The Ogre Wars in the White Kingdom, under King Leopold’s rule.”

 

Thankfully, history is her niche. She studied the Ogre Wars with her tutor as a young woman and she was fascinated by Queen Regina’s involvement in the strategic planning of the army. It’s still a mystery why her grandfather allowed his wife to be so hands on with a task so typical of a male, but Emma admired the lost queen all the same. “The Ogre Wars started thirty three years ago and lasted five years, so it’s been at least that long. So about those wishes...“

 

She trails off when she sees how the brunette has blanched. “Thirty years. I’ve been...” She whips around to blink at the lamp. The purple smoke has faded and all that’s left is the beautiful woman in front of her and the lamp that was her prison for nearly three decades. Emma wants to smack herself for how insensitive it was of her to ask about wishes when this woman has been trapped for longer than Emma’s even been alive. She’s snapped from her self-deprecating thoughts when the other woman gasps, “Which Kingdom is this?”

 

“You’re still in the White kingdom, if that’s any consolation.” Emma says as she takes in the genie’s side profile. Something about her seems strangely familiar. It’s because of this inspection that she notices the brunettes jaw tick.

 

“So, Leopold...”

 

“He passed away a few years ago. Drank himself to death.” She reveals dryly as she steps off the bed and smooths down her night gown. The other woman hasn’t moved an inch since being released and Emma’s kind of waiting for her to bolt. She wouldn’t even blame her for it. The ability to be free is consuming. She’d know.

 

The brunette whips her head around and studies Emma for a moment before the corner of her lips twitches into a half smile. “Slander against the late King. That’s quite scandalous, dear.” Emma’s chest puffs out at the reverence for her rebellion. It’s not something that happens often.

 

“I’m sort of... a black sheep, I suppose one— _everyone_ —would say.”

 

“Good,” The brunette’s eyes go soft for some reason but it makes Emma’s heart beat way too fast. Perhaps it’s the glimmer of respect she sees in those large brown eyes. Then the genie squints, “You must be someone important to speak ill of the King and not fear retribution from the royal family.”

 

Emma shifts nervously and purposefully looks away from the beautiful woman for the first time. “Define important...” She snorts, ignoring the way her eyes start to burn all of a sudden. “I’m the daughter of Queen Snow and King Charming.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer so I'm hoping that makes up for the short last one! I hope you enjoy their dynamic :) There’s definitely some shade at age old arguments against our favorite pairing in here, I’m sure you’ll spot that easily enough haha Let me know what you think!

Regina’s heart stopped the moment she felt magic surrounding her on the cushy satin bed in the lamp. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in... well, she wasn’t sure how long. Her heart shocked back into rhythm the moment her eyes landed on a thin green-eyed blonde pressed against her headboard in awe and fear. She swallowed that and managed to hold a conversation, albeit with enough nerves to make her voice tremble once in a while. She hadn’t spoken to another human being since that fateful night in her bed chambers and, truthfully, her hormones were rampant. She hadn’t been touched in so long and the blonde had such toned thighs and a cleavage so perky and plump she wanted to drown in it, but she shook it off.

 

Her heart had just started to calm slightly when those words stopped its beat cold.

 

_“I’m the daughter of Queen Snow and King Charming.”_

Her heart stopped once more. That name, the name she would snarl at before she was trapped, was being uttered at her for the first time in three decades. She expects to feel seething anger, but all she feels is a tiredness in her bones. That resentment she felt... she knows it’s partly what trapped her in that lamp.

 

And now there’s this _princess_ in front of her who’s slandering the man that Snow idolized and looks so lost, and Regina feels drawn to her. But the moment this girl finds out who she is, Regina will only be some runaway queen that Snow will most likely banish for bringing shame to their family.

 

She must escape. She must leave this kingdom before they forcibly remove her. She will _not_ allow the White family to take another choice from her.

 

“Hey, uh,” The blonde’s voice startles her, and she peers over just in time to see the young girl rubbing nervously at the back of her neck, “it’s really not a big deal, you know? Sure, I’m a royal by blood, but I just want to be like everyone else. I hope that didn’t freak you out or anything, genie.”

 

Her eyes roll automatically. “I’m not a genie, _princess_.”

 

“Emma,” The blonde blurts. “Or Swan. A lot of people call me Swan.” Her awkward delivery should not be as endearing as she finds it. “What’s your—“

 

She bites the inside of her cheek and looks around the room in the hopes of coming up with any response that’ll move their interaction along. She refuses to divulge any information and the sooner the princess goes to bed, the sooner she can leave and hunt down the former genie of Agrabah to skin him alive... after several hours of torture of course.

 

“Hmm, of course, dear. I apologize for disturbing your rest,” She mumbles, feigning guilt, and gestures to the twisted bed covers. The blonde shrugs it off and Regina has to bite her tongue in order to not scold her for it. Those etiquette lessons were beaten into her quite thoroughly. “We could continue speaking in the morning.” She waves at the bed, “Go on.”

 

The blonde tosses her a small smile and turns toward the bed. She takes a handful of steps before she stops, her fingers landing on the silk sheets to play with a loose thread. Regina stares at her rigid back for a moment. It’s so silent in the room that Regina can hear a voice from the down the hall wishing someone a goodnight.

 

When a far-off door slams and leaves the castle in ringing silence once more, the princess speaks. “You can go, you know. I won’t hold it against you—not that you’d care what some misfit royal thinks. I just... I know what it’s like to be trapped. Any opportunity to be free? I savor it. And now, well, you’ve got yours and I would let you go.” The blonde’s shoulders roll. Regina suspects its tension of some kind. She’d perhaps be able to tell if her own mind wasn’t so stunned by the young woman’s perceptiveness. Regina’s ready to cut her off, to tell her she’s being ridiculous, but the blonde isn’t done. “In fact, I don’t want you here,” Emma whispers and it digs into Regina’s chest and twists whatever shriveled up organ beats there. “I want you to be free.”

 

Then the blonde’s hopping into bed and burrowing into the blankets with her back to Regina, and she flinches away from the sight. _This_ doesn’t feel like a choice at all.

 

She doesn’t hesitate though, even if each clack of her heels on the stone floor makes her lungs squeeze tighter until she can barely breathe. She’s twisting the doorknob on the double doors that lead to the balcony when she realizes it’s not her emotions restricting her breathe. Each step feels suffocating because _it is._

She’s wheezing against the glass doors and can feel eyes burning into her back. She’s stubborn enough to turn the knob, throw open the door, and try to take another step. It’s then that she smacks directly into an invisible barrier of some kind, and its shockwave sends her flying across the room into the hard, cold stone wall before her body rag dolls to the floor. A gasp from the bed reaches her ringing ears, but she’s too stunned to even acknowledge the princess, who’s most likely sitting up in bed, wide awake and just as shocked.

 

Her shoulder is pulsating painfully, and her magic automatically springs forward, flooding around her in a deep purple mist, to pop her bone back into place. Another gasp comes from behind her, but this is more pleasantly surprised than worried, and it makes Regina whip around to see the princess smiling at the purple mist emanating from her hand.

 

She  _likes_ magic? _Well... that’s new._

“You have magic,” The blonde ends up whispering joyously after a few quiet moments. Before Regina can even answer or start to question the younger woman’s ease around magic, especially when Snow detested magic so much as a teenager, the blonde lifts her hand, palm up, and a white mist swirls into a calla lily. And _oh_. Emma smiles softly at her and it’s filled with something tangible that breaks Regina’s heart. The flower disappears the next second as she whispers, “I have magic too, but mother told me it was rare. I’ve never met anyone like me before.”

 

Regina can imagine a younger, more impressionable princess just discovering her abilities and being shut down, and her own chest tightens.

 

“Of course not, dear. Snow was always afraid of the magics.”

 

“You knew my mother?”

 

Regina grimaces but quickly clears her throat and manages a disinterested look. “Well, I’ve heard quite a bit about her and her views. She was the princess of a large kingdom and her father was just as opposed to the art.”

 

Which was true. Leopold hated magic of any kind. Regina still thinks it’s because he felt threatened and weak as a person without it. He began implementing law that made magic use in public illegal. She wonders if Snow followed in his footsteps, even with a child with the gift.

 

“Yeah,” Emma’s jaw tenses, “He wasn’t very subtle with his bigotry.”

 

Regina watches the blonde as she looks away and tenses, lost in a memory that she can only imagine involves the old bastard chastising Emma for having a gift. And magic is certainly a gift. It’s given so many women freedom, power, and autonomy. The need to banish it, outlaw it, feels so rooted in patriarchal anxiety, and Snow was somehow caught up in it. Perhaps she admired her father so much that she blindly followed his path and never questioned his ideals.  

 

“Speaking of magic though...” The blonde trails off and jerks her head toward the flapping balcony door, and Regina suddenly remembers the panic and pain from the incident. She expects a barrage of questions about what happened and what it means, and she’s absolutely shocked when the princess scoots closer and shyly asks, “Are you okay?”

 

The concern for her wellbeing almost startles her. The last person that ever cared enough to ask her if she was alright... well, he’s buried six feet under because she dared to love him.

 

“I’m fine,” She snaps, the memory of what she’s lost darkening her mood even after so many decades. “Did you put you a barrier—“

 

“No, I told you to _leave_. That would be pretty counterintuitive, don’t you think?” The princess has bite. She’s almost impressed that this feisty young woman sprouted from the White family gene pool. “I’m not that desperate for your company.”

 

“So, you admit you want me here?” Regina snarks back, her pink stained lips smirking at having caught the admission.

 

The blonde huffs, her arms crossing defensively as she leans back with her butt resting in her heels. Her nightgown is large on her petite frame and practically slips off her shoulders with every breathe. She finds her smirk diminishing as she stares at the pronounced collarbones and flawless pale skin on display.

 

She’s snapped from her appraisal when Emma flops onto her back and shuffles under her covers. “I’ll head up to the library to find a book on genies in the morning. I’m sure that’ll give us some answers. For now,” Emma waves her hand and all the candles in the room dim, “you can sleep on the floor.”

 

A pillow and layers of blanket appear on the stone floor next to her and Regina practically chokes on her own tongue. “Excuse me? I’m—“

 

“Goodnight, genie.”

 

“I’m  _not_ a genie.”

Emma peeks over the edge of the bed to smirk down at her. “What should I call you then?”

 

_Well played, Princess._

Regina huffs indignantly and scoots over to the blankets and pillow laid out before waving her hand and laying them out how she prefers. She settles in and sighs, realizing she’s going to have to bite the bullet eventually, “Regina.”

 

“Regina... like—“

 

“Leopold’s second wife? Indeed.” She swallows roughly and ignores the bile burning her esophagus. She can feel the wheels in Emma’s head turning and shifts her away from those thoughts, not wanting the young girl to connect the dots. “The name means queen in Latin. My mother was very hopeful. I suppose the name is... _blessed_.”

“I wouldn’t call Queen Regina’s predicament blessed,” is the phrase that spills from Emma’s mouth that makes her heart flutter back to life and beat so fast it makes her chest hurt. She just watches as the princess scoffs. “My mom tried to sugar coat it, but... Queen Regina was sold to my grandfather at seventeen years old. Granny told me she was miserable here, that she always heard her crying herself to sleep. That isn’t a blessing. That’s misery. This life... if you don’t want it, it’s a misery.”

 

The blonde bites her lip when she notices Regina’s wide-eyed stare and must mistake the awe in her eyes for something else because she backpedals slightly. “I know it’s a much better predicament than some of the citizens! I never go hungry, and I have a staff that tend to me, and I have the best tutors and know how to read and write, and I will have the power to make decisions that affect everyone. I just... I wish I had choices. I want for nothing except freedom and freedom—“

 

“Freedom is everything,” Regina finishes, her voice tinted with that awe Emma hadn’t identified.

 

Emma nods and smiles softly. “The Queen—Regina—she was documented as saying that when asked why the White Kingdom decided to help the other kingdoms in the Ogre Wars. It always stuck with me, I guess.”

 

Regina nearly blushes at the clear admiration in the blonde’s voice. “You seem... quite taken with... your grandmother?”

 

“She  _isn’t_ my grandmother,” Emma quickly rebuts, fiercely in fact. It’s almost as if she’s had this same argument too many times to count.

 

“Oh?”

 

“I don’t think a forced marriage between a teenager and an old man that caused the wife to cry herself to sleep every night and ended in a disappearance should be considered a valid marriage.” Emma snaps at her, much like earlier, but this time, Regina softens. “But yes, I’m intrigued by her. She’s been practically erased from our history books and most of what I know comes from Granny, our head chef, and some other staff members that have been here a long time. My mother... she says it’s too painful to have to read about her, but I think it’s unfair and... well, I don’t need to bore you with this.”

 

Regina shakes her head and bites her tongue to keep tears at bay. “Not at all. You seem like a very... very kind young woman.”

 

Emma frowns down at her from her perch on the edge of the bed. She shrugs, “Maybe. Not the adjective most have used, but...” She trails off and Regina hates that this woman has been conditioned to believe her empathy is a negative, something that needs to be done away with. Before she can say anything, Emma disappears out of sight, most likely to lay back down and hide the emotion Regina had only gotten a peek at. A few seconds later, she hears Emma’s soft, quiet voice saying, “I’ll go to the library tomorrow and figure out what’s going on. We’ll get you that freedom.”

 

Regina purses her lips. Freedom. It’s been so long since she’s had it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks in and smiles dopily like Emma Swan in the Once Upon a Time pilot episode* hi. 
> 
> The writers block has been hitting me so hard, but it's finally here! I hope you enjoy!

Emma woke up the next morning to agitated knocking on her bedroom door and a bunch of blankets and pillows on the floor, sans a genie— _not_ genie? Whatever. Once she spied the lamp on the shelf with her other collectibles, she assumed the lamp sucked the brunette back in when there was an imminent threat of discovery. But assumptions aren’t fact and that’s why Emma dodged her guards and shooed them off before sneaking her way up to the library.

 

The White castle has an extensive library stocked with hundreds of books and encyclopedias, and Emma spent a large portion of her childhood in this section of the castle, hidden away from obligation and those horrible etiquette classes Snow forced her to take.

 

Their head librarian, Belle French, was a great resource for the princess and never restricted Emma to any section of the library. The brunette woman believed that knowledge was power, and she would never even attempt to shield Emma from any of it.

 

Like now, for instance, Queen Snow was pushing for Emma to study up on the tasks and values that are apropos for a future monarch, but Belle just keeps supplying Emma with literature about the histories of each surrounding kingdom, the grim fairytales books, and encyclopedias about strong females in history. It’s through Belle that Emma was able to dig up the book that cited Queen Regina’s importance in the strategic planning of the Ogre Wars.

 

Or find an ancient text all about genies from all over the world and the magic that binds them to their lamps. Belle seemed a bit startled by her request initially, probably because Emma had been so enthralled with finding any solid record of Queen Regina’s accomplishments after absorbing the entirety of Queen Eva’s, who had stacks upon stacks of books about her. Her grandfather obviously was madly in love with her grandmother. It was borderline obsessive.

 

“This is what I could find on such short notice, Swan.” The librarian smiles brightly and taps on the three books she stacked in the center of the wooden table where Emma usually seeks refuge and solitude. The table is tucked away in a corner far from the entrance and gives her some much needed privacy.

 

She plops down onto her chair and stretches her neck to read the title of the first book. _Genie’s and Giants: A Guide to Understanding the Working Magical Class._ It sounded extremely political, which usually interested her, but it wasn’t very helpful in this case. The second book, however, is perfect. _Guidelines to Genie Ownership._ Well, describing it as perfect seems a little dirty, Emma realizes with a shiver. Owning another being feels intrinsically wrong and, with a jolt, it dawns on her that she technically owns Regina now. It makes her skin crawl. The faster she can set the brunette free, the better.

 

“If I find anything else, I’ll put it in your cubby.” Belle gives her a small wink and Emma smiles as the librarian retreats back into the depths of the huge library. Belle is one of the youngest employees of the royals and has been a close friend for years. With the threat of war between two allies of the White kingdom imminent, she can imagine her parents ordered Belle is pull up all of the manifestos King Leopold wrote about the conduct of a neutral kingdom in war time.

 

She grabs the second book and slides it onto her lap. The first page is a detailed index and she quickly skims the sections to make sure it has the information she’s looking for, which it does. There are sections about genie and lamp tethering, traveling with a genie, magical properties and abilities of the lamps, and how to properly make a wish. She peeks around the library just in case but is relieved to see no one and to only hear the cracking of a distant fire from the main lobby of the library.

 

She thumbs the width of the book and sighs. She’s got a lot of reading to do and not much time before Snow comes searching to drag her to another lunch with foreign leaders.

 

“Hey, Belle!” She calls out. The young brunette appears from between two bookshelves with an armful of books. “You mind if I take this book? I promise I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

 

Belle gives her a skeptical look but she’s not in the position to deny the princess anything and ends up nodding.

 

She sneaks out of the library and up to her room without much fanfare. The thick book is tossed onto her bed before she saunters over to the shelving to pick up the lamp sitting exactly where Emma had placed it before her birthday ball.

 

There isn’t as much anxiety in the pit of her gut when she rubs the metal this time and there’s no surprise when the mist begins to billow out around the room. She’s still as enraptured by the bombshell brunette that appears from it though. The genie blinks owlishly, like she just woke up, and Emma tries to smile reassuringly.

 

“Hey.” She jerks her head toward the bed. “I found some answers. I just have to read through it all, which might take a while. I figured we could find the sections that answer our most pressing questions before my mother pulls me out of my room, kicking and screaming.”

 

Regina clears her throat and presses her hand against her clipped back hair to smooth it down. She’s obviously still groggy from being summoned mid-sleep, but she manages to croak, “It wasn’t a dream.”

 

Emma’s heart pangs. “No, it wasn’t a dream.” She swallows as she watches a whole host of emotions flood Regina’s expression, none sticking long enough for her to analyze. Still, something compels her to make the promise that’s been on the tip of her tongue all morning. “You’ll be free soon. I won’t stop until you are.”

 

The genie chuckles and it sends shivers down Emma’s spine. She’s never quite heard a laugh that lacked humor before. “A member of the White family trying to free me,” Regina whispers, incredulous and disbelieving. “Quite a rebel.”

 

Emma doesn’t know what to say. Regina’s demeanor seems much darker, sinister, than it was the night before and the tone curls around her heart and squeezes until she’s out of breath. Those brown eyes that were so full of awe and warmth the night before are nearly black with a simmering rage visible.

 

“Uh,” Emma stumbles over her words and gulps. She turns away from Regina, giving that intense gaze her back, and lifts the book into her arms. “So, there’s a chapter on binding of genies to their...” Emma flips open the book to the indexed page and clears her throat nervously as she reads the last word in bold letters on it, “masters.”

 

She ignores the derisive snort that gets, mostly because the word makes her cringe as well, and starts to read the first paragraph, which explains the origin of the binding magic and how strong it is. She starts to read out loud when the information becomes relevant.

 

“The binding of a genie is used to keep them subservient and decrease risk of escape. This unique and powerful binding spell is connected to the lamps and, subsequently, to the master that gains ownership of it. The genie cannot leave the parameters of the room in which the lamp resides. If the lamp is carried into a location that has no boundaries, such as a natural forest or dessert, the binding spell will create its own boundaries that only allows the genie to be within twenty feet of its home.” Emma trails off then bites her lip.

 

She had already started to think up some loopholes, like giving Regina ownership of the lamp. Of course, that’d mean the brunette would have to carry the lamp on her person for the rest of her life, but at least she would be free. Her idea is shattered when she reads the final sentences of the paragraph, “Genies cannot gain ownership of their lamps. This is to prevent genies from illegally claiming ownership and escaping. If a master agrees to relieve a genie of their duties and services, a soul must take the place of the genie seeking to be retired from service.”

 

“A soul for a soul,” Regina mutters, and it’s the most defeated she’s heard her. It makes Emma swivel around at break-neck speed to catch a glimpse of the softness in those brown eyes that had been missing when she first returned. The softness this time, she notices, comes from something that looks an awful lot like sadness.

 

 _A soul for a soul._ Emma grips the book tightly between her fingers and imagines the agony this woman has been through. She was trapped by someone seeking freedom, and that hits her chest so hard she loses her breath. Desperation can make monsters.

 

“Well,” Emma inhales sharply, “There has to be another way, right? Let me...” She flips back to the index and quickly skims the four pages to find the section on relief of duty. She flips to the end of the book and exhales shakily.

 

Regina’s already shaking her head, but Emma’s not letting that deter her. Her desperation only increases when she reads the entirety of the six last pages and finds mostly the same information—a soul for a soul—but then she sees the last paragraph. Her eyes grow wide as she stares at the two bolded words smack dab in the center of the page. She tenses and breathes, “True love.”

 

Now, there’s a derisive huff from behind her, and Emma spins and watches as the brunette snarls, “That isn’t an option!”

 

“It can be,” Emma attempts to cajole her, but Regina clicks her tongue in annoyance and rolls her eyes. “It _can,_ ” She emphasizes. “You were cursed to be a genie thirty years ago, so any lovers you had are most likely still alive. We could find him—or her—“

 

“Drop it,” Regina’s voice is so calm that it’s deadly and Emma finds herself taking a step back. Everything about the brunette’s aura has shifted from last night and she has no clue how to deal with this.

 

She hates confrontation and anxiety fills her veins every time she’s witness to an argument or altercation. She’s a princess too, which means she’s respected automatically because of her blood and hasn’t had much anger directed at her before. Her parents made up at least ninety percent of the anger directed at her on top of that. So, to see a practical stranger look at her with so much rage and darkness and anticipation is nerve wracking. Emma’s frozen to her spot by the bed, her book cradled in her arms with the open pages pressed against her beasts and crinkling too loudly for her comfort.

 

Deep down, she wants to fight her on this, but she hesitates for much too long. The last thing she expects is what comes from Regina’s mouth after a few second of awkward, tense silence.

 

“Wishes. How do they work?”

 

“Wha—“

 

“ _Wishes_. If I’m going to be stuck like this, I might as well give you what you want.” Regina sneers, “You don’t seem too awful and I’d hate for you to ship me off to some derelict.”

 

“ _Too awful?_ ” Emma repeats, incredulous. For a reason she can’t exactly understand, Regina’s frigidness and insult is stinging more than it should considering the brunette is a random stranger that appeared only the night before. “You know what? Whatever. It’s fine.”

 

Emma huffs as she swipes to the page regarding wishes and starts reading out loud. “The master has the ability to wish for almost anything. There are exceptions to this power. Masters cannot explicitly wish death upon a living human and cannot wish life back into a deceased human, as magic is unable to interfere with mortality. To make a wish, the master solely needs to start the command sequence by clearly stating the phrase _‘I wish’_. Because the command is a phrase used commonly, it is forewarned that masters should be cautious with their speech. Once the wish granting sequence has begun, it cannot be halted. Therefore, a genie is required to follow through with a wish even if the master commands them not too.”

 

Regina hasn’t acknowledged the instructions, but Emma can tell she’s intrigued and listening. Emma, however, feels extremely wary about this whole thing. It sounds like she will have a massive amount of control over Regina and it makes her skin crawl.

 

“A master cannot relieve a genie of their duty through a wish. They can, however, use a wish to break the bond between genie and themselves. This will result in the genie being sequestered in the lamp and transported to a random location. The genie will be locked in the lamp once more until a new master finds and rubs the lamp.”

 

Regina locks gazes with her once her voice trails off. The last paragraph details the need to be specific when making wishes and Emma isn’t an idiot despite what many whisper behind her back. Obviously, a wish must be detailed and well throughout. Otherwise it could spell disaster. On top of that, she’s a bit mesmerized by piercing brown eyes to notice much else.

 

“So, I suppose your wish is my command,” Regina drawls lazily, her fingers fisting the material of her tight, velvet blue dress. “What do you want?”

 

Emma gulps. This should become interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think I was going to let SQ be all softness? Oops haha. We will get Regina thoughts next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY. Writers block has been a struggle lately, but I did map out the story fully and feel more comfortable writing. We shall see how that goes! I hope you guys enjoy Regina's perspective :)

In the morning light, she realized the room she was sleeping in. Perched on the mountain of blankets and pillows on the ground, she finally noticed the details that brought back such negative memories.

 

The dent in the stone wall behind the princesses’ bed was from her honeymoon. Leopold was inebriated and his sloppy movements made the heavy headboard bang against the stone until it chipped.

 

The scratches on the wooden wardrobe made bile rise in her throat. He had been inebriated again, but his mood was dark, and his desire was violent. He had thrown her against it and her nails scratched against the surface so roughly that her fingers bled.

 

The dark stain on the bottom corner  of the chaise lounge where she usually cried until she had a pounding headache. Snow had been angry that she refused to go to her riding competition because she was busy conferring with allied nations over the war and Leopold hadn’t taken kindly to his prized child being upset. He smacked her so hard her lip split and bled, and when she fell to the ground, her mouth had rubbed against the fabric there.

 

In the dewy morning, she realized the princesses’ bedroom was her bedroom decades ago.  She was trapped in that room again and she couldn’t breathe. So, she voluntary entered the lamp once more for a break from the residual memories littered around the bedroom.

 

She slept to ward off the memories, but the nightmares that plagued her swiftly took its place and felt so real.

 

And when the princess released her from the self-inflicted solitude to place her back in that room, she questioned whether the night before was real at all. Was her nightmare a reality and the blonde a refuge while she slept? But as time passes and the blonde continued to talk, she seethed, because that was real. Leopold has won. She had been trapped for decades. Snow White had her perfect life, still spoiled as queen, while Daniel was dead and buried.

 

She wanted to burn the palace to ashes. She wanted to ruin Snow White. She wanted to bring Leopold back just so she could wrap her hands around his throat and revel in his breath being stolen. She wanted revenge.

 

But with each sentence the princess uttered, her anger turned to resignation. She was still trapped, still a tool to be used by a member of the White family, but at least this one seemed genuinely noble and kind hearted, and she wouldn’t be the worse master to obey. If the blonde sent her away, though, there was a whole host of monsters in the Enchanted Forest that could make her existence traumatic and miserable.

 

Yes, the princess was her only hope for a tolerable life. It wasn’t that her beauty and charisma made Regina’s abdomen flutter, or that her heart seized in her chest when the blonde defended her honor, nor was it that the blonde had kind eyes that roamed over her body in innocent appreciation and made her feel sexy without any ulterior motive.

 

No, this was simply a smart, logical strategic move.

 

“So, I suppose your wish is my command,” Regina drawled lazily in an attempt to not show just how anxious she felt. Her fingers fisted the material of her tight, velvet blue dress and she bit her lip to keep from smiling when green eyes continued to stare at her fingers. She snapped the blonde out of her trance with a sharp, “What do you want?”

 

“I don’t... know,” The blonde cleared her throat uncertainly. Regina rolled her eyes at the girls’ tentative nature as she whipped her head toward the balcony. She observed the sunlight hitting the glass and reflecting inward to warm the stone floor. Her stare became full of longing, her mind aching for that piece of freedom. She was so focused on what she couldn’t have that Emma’s knowing voice startled her. “Actually, I have an idea. I’m not sure if this is against the rules or anything, but... I wish the balcony was included in the lamps boundary for this room.”

 

Regina’s heart stopped. Without her consent, her hand flew up into the air and her finger flicked quickly, and suddenly the shimmer that had blown her back the night before faded and left only the warm glow of the sun. It _worked_.

 

“Woah!” Emma chuckled nervously, her hand immediately lifting to caress the skin at the nape of her neck. A nervous tick of hers. “Uh, I don’t plan to abuse that, you know? I just saw you looking out there and...”

 

The blonde trailed off and Regina was a bit too overwhelmed to reassure her.

 

It’s then Snow White banged on the bedroom door and sternly commanded the princess to accompany her to lunch. The blonde swiftly scurried off and Regina didn’t envy her. She attended political lunches frequently during her tenure as queen, and most of them ended with a splitting headache from listening to pompous men inflate their own egos.

 

She was left to her devices for hours, it felt like, but she used the time alone to analyze the room and the changes. The blonde had an extensive collection of vintage items and her balcony had a small and well-tended to garden, but the color scheme and furniture were mostly the same. She ignored that in favor of taking a closer look at the things that were solely of the princess.

 

Eventually, she found the courage to step past the threshold that harmed her the night before and sighed, relieved, when nothing of the sort occurred again. The wish added the balcony to her parameters, which was a definite improvement, but it also made Regina wonder how far she could take it. Could Emma wish to give her free reign of the castle grounds? It didn’t specify anything about it in the book, at least from what they read earlier. Perhaps the blonde could research it more thoroughly when she was done with her duties.

 

Hours later, Emma finds her resting with her eyes closed on one of the chaise lounges on the balcony. The light breeze cools her skin from the harsh warmth of the sun and the quiet chirping of birds relax her enough that she nearly fell asleep. She flicks one eye open and contains a smile when the blonde woman drops onto the lounge next to her without an ounce of grace.

 

She doesn’t say anything, not that she would know what to say, and promptly closes her one eye in hopes that they can just relax and not discuss anything for once. Emma has other plans.

 

“It wasn’t just a miserable political lunch. It was a set up.” Emma grunts, annoyed, and Regina just waits for her to continue. “Some creepy old dude with scaly skin and his _dashing_ young son, Baelfire.” The name has Regina jolting and snapping her eyes open. Emma just shrugs, not noticing her reaction, “Weird name for a kid, but whatever. He didn’t seem too bad. Much better than the pirate king? Killian Jones? That guy was a nightmare. Literally. I had nightmares about him and his sharp hook and greasy _everything_ last night.”

 

“The older man... you said he had scaly skin?” Regina asks in feigned nonchalance.

 

“Yeah, he’s that Dark... Lord? Dork?” Emma shrugs again, her eyes staring unseeingly at the balcony’s railing. “He’s crazy powerful and took over several neighboring kingdoms by force. My mom and our allied nations tried to take him on, but, in the end, the kingdoms realized it was better to placate him than try to fight him.”

 

Regina’s eyebrows can’t even be controlled at the moment. They’re flying toward her hairline and her mouth is hanging open, because Rumple found his son and became a tyrant king? A lot of things can happen in thirty years apparently. Emma chuckles at her reaction and Regina bristles slightly.

 

“I’m glad you find my surprise so humorous—“

 

“Relax, would you?” Emma continues smiling, unrelenting under her glare and angry words. “You’re cute.” Regina stares, loose-jawed, as the blonde starts to stammer after revealing that tidbit. “I—I meant that your surprise was cute—well, it’s just very—“

 

“Unclench, Princess.” It’s Regina’s turn to be smug. Her brown eyes glimmer with mischief and her pink lips stretch into a lazy smirk. “I won’t snap your neck for complimenting me.”

 

Those green eyes narrow at her, but she just stifles a dark chuckle and closes her own eyes again. She exhales slowly and enjoys the gentle breeze on her skin and the comfortable silence that has befallen them. It’s the first time she’s felt so at peace in decades, perhaps since that last outdoor picnic with Daniel before Leopold snatched her hand and shoved a ring onto her finger. The room behind her is a harsh reminder of the misery she lived through, but out here, with nature around her and freshness filling her lungs and the sounds of the forest lingering in the air, she feels free.

 

The silence between them is slightly tense after Regina’s teasing, but the brunette couldn’t care less. Probably. While the princess seemed alright, she was still the offspring of that insipid child that ruined her life and she’s not sure how to cope with that. Obviously, the blonde shouldn’t be punished for the sins of her mother. Regina bites down on her tongue as flashes of her own mother ripping Daniels heart out and squeezing it to dust paralyze her.

 

At times, in that lamp, she’d ponder who she would’ve become if she hadn’t gotten trapped in it. Would she have let her anger rule her completely? Would she slowly become Cora? Would she have slipped into madness and become so vile and evil as to take a life with her own hands in the way Cora took Daniels?

 

She’s still angry, very much so, but she has no motivation to act on it. Not yet. Perhaps she’s too drained emotionally to care about events that occurred before she was trapped in the lamp, or perhaps she’ll continue to think about the life she led and allow that anger to push her to action. Time can only tell.

 

Right now, however, she’s enjoying the cool breeze on her skin and shaking away any of those repugnant memories and thoughts.

 

“You said you were royalty.” Regina blinks owlishly, staring out at the pink trumpet trees lining the castle gate the balcony faces. Emma’s voice is calm, even, and tempered, but her curiosity is obvious and Regina swallows roughly. Deep down, she knows the blonde’s curiosity will ruin all of this. She waits. Emma sighs softly at the silence before adding, “When we met, you chastised me about it. So...”

 

“ _So_ , it’s none of your _business_ , _princess_.” She sneers, calm but deadly. She disregards the hurt she sees on the blonde’s face and plows on. “My past is of no concern to you. I’m am your possession, after all. Another trinket on your shelf.”

 

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Emma says it firmly and with so much conviction that Regina stumbles in her anger for a moment, and it gives the blonde just enough time to keep talking. “What do you want from me, huh? Want me to wish you back into that lamp, to be trapped for who knows how long, to possibly end up with someone that takes advantage of you?”

 

 _Like your grandfather did, you mean?_ It almost rolls off her tongue, but she bites down on the words. She bites down harder, until her tongue throbs under the pressure.

 

She’s at a loss, paralyzed by the racing thoughts running rampant in her mind, but she’s saved from the tense atmosphere by Emma’s quick and brutish departure. The blonde hops off the chaise lounge with so much speed that the heavy seat slides against the stone ground violently. She’s out of sight now, but Regina can hear her stomping around inside and slamming drawers.

 

She grimaces, suddenly feeling guilty for her frigid attitude. The blonde isn’t her grandfather or Snow. She’s noble and curious, and she’s perhaps too brutish and naive at times, but she doesn’t deserve her fury. Yet she can’t stop. Life has made her hard, quick to defense, snappish, and she’s not sure she can change after so long.

 

Another thing she’s not good at? Apologizing. With a quiet growl, she jumps off the chaise lounge and steps back into the room. Emma’s taking her knick-knacks off the book case and aggressively dusting the shelves with a silky feather duster. The blonde huffs as she swipes the duster across the wood, and she says nothing. She bites her tongue again. Her jaw ticks. The words are on the tip of her tongue, trapped between her teeth.

 

She unlocks her jaw and opens her, and the words that fly out aren’t what she intends at all. “You don’t have to be so dramatic, dear.”

 

Emma scoffs incredulously, “You’re incredible.” The feather duster is thrown onto the bed angrily. “You know what, I’m not surprised you got trapped in that lamp. You’re kind of a huge pain in my ass.”

 

“That’s quite undignified, _princess_. _”_ She tilts her chin back, feigning disinterest and confidence despite the sharp pang of hurt that ricochets around her chest cavity.

“ _Stop_ calling me that! I know you’re mocking me, and I don’t appreciate it!”

 

“That’s what you _are_. You’re a mockery of the title.” Regina’s hands land on her own hips as she smirks condescendingly. “You can put on a charade,” Regina points at Emma’s cream-colored dress and overcoat and her perfectly braided long blonde hair, “but it’s not fooling anyone, is it, dear? You said so yourself—“

 

“ _Stop_.”

 

“What’s the matter? Does the truth hurt, princess?”

 

“Of course it does!” Those sharp words stop her in her tracks, and she’s stunned by the vulnerable admission. Emma looks ready to burst into tears and suddenly the hurt ricochets in her chest for another reason entirely. The blonde’s eyes are glassy, and her frame is rigid as she spats, “What’s wrong with you?”

 

“I’m—“ The apology gets lodged in her throat, but the blonde doesn’t give her any time to force it out because she’s stomping toward her with a deep frown etched on those pink lips.

 

“I know this situation sucks, and I’m sorry, but I’m doing my best here! I don’t know what you want from me!” The blonde is practically nose to nose with her and she really wishes she could stop focusing on the way the princesses’ lips tilt crookedly to the right slightly. The woman’s light perfume, a vanilla scent that has a kick of spice, invades her senses, and she’s drunk off of it. The other woman doesn’t even notice. “Do you want me to wish you away? Is that what you want? God, just tell me and I’ll do it! Because I can’t keep—“

 

“ _No_.” It tumbles from her lips so quietly, yet it sounds like a gunshot. Her ears are even ringing as it echoes in her mind. The blonde looks shaken by the certainty with which it was declared. Her hands are shaking so she entangles her fingers and squeezes. She breathes in and out, twice, then smiles wobbly. “No, I don’t want to be... to be wished away. I’m... I apologize.”

 

“Okay...” The blonde whispers it between their lips. It’s then that she must notice how close they are to one another and takes a large step back. She exhales tiredly, “Okay.”

 

 _Okay_. That’s a start.


End file.
